When one of my sons was around two years old, we were finishing the good time that is also known as potty training. He was doing really well. It was fall, time for hayrides and bonfires. One weekend we decided to get together with some friends of ours to visit a local orchard where they helped grease the wheels of commerce by having a huge fall festival. There were the obvious things like apple picking, cider, and a corn maze. They also had a small scale train for the kids to ride, a playground with an impressive number of wooden structures for the kids to climb around in, and they actually put on little shows on Saturday and Sunday.
It was busy on the day we went. We found a parking spot in the large dirt lot and walked down to the main attractions. The kids got ice cream and took a ride on the train. Then we let them loose on the playground. This is the point where I need to explain something about my little guy and his bathroom habits. He was not what you would call regular in the number two department. Sometimes I think that he just didn’t want to take the time out from what he was doing, other times I just think that he thought that it was gross. He’s a little bit of a clean freak. Needless to say, this created a backup. Like I said, we had set the kids loose on the playground. I saw my guy across the way. He had that thousand yard stare, the one you get when you are having battle flashbacks, or are about to make a deposit. I recognized that look and I ran to him to ask if he needed to go potty. I was too late. So, we ended up in the bathroom cleaning him up. The bathrooms had seen some heavy use on that day and when we left it, I decided that he may have had the right idea about pooping outside. It looked like a Woodstock bathroom. Doesn’t matter which Woodstock, they were all disgusting. Luckily the damage had been mostly contained, and I was able to send him back to the playground commando style. Bullet mostly dodged. The kids got back to playing and I sat down on a bench. My wife was following the munchkin around. It was about a half hour later when my guy stopped in the middle of the play area. My wife saw him. I saw him. There was nothing we could do. He stood there in his shorts with that same look on his face. In slow motion two poops rolled right out of his shorts and landed in the mulch. My wife stood there in shock, looked at me and said, “It’s like having a pet duck”. Well, now it was time to go home. No one had realized what happened. We took a bridal shower invitation out of my wife’s purse, looked around to make sure we weren’t being watched, and I bent down to pick up after our son. I’ve had dogs since I was a kid, but this was my first time picking up after a person. I put the loaded invitation into a slurpee cup that we had and put that in the trash.
I’m saving this story for his fiancé.
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